


If You Think My Truth Is A Lie, You Can Get Bent

by The_Mouse_of_Anon



Series: The Bart is trans collection [1]
Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Multi, No Khaji Da you can't set that jerk on fire, Swearing, Transphobia mention, cursing, trans boy Bart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-11-20 02:52:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11327169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Mouse_of_Anon/pseuds/The_Mouse_of_Anon
Summary: There were a lot of things that frustrated Bart about the past… this time…whatever, but for the most part he was of the opinion that it (justifiably) was better than his original time. However, one thing he had run into on a routine basis that never failed to make him want to tear his hair out was the complete and utterbullshithe got over being trans.In other words, Bart was having abad day.





	If You Think My Truth Is A Lie, You Can Get Bent

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was born from a request on tumblr for a trans boy Bart fic that I couldn't refuse. I had a lot of fun with this one, and I hope everyone enjoys reading it as much as I did writing it. Also, a couple of minor warnings for mentioned transphobia and Bart's justified swearing.
> 
> (Credit for the 'bug-fucker' insult goes to disregardcanon on tumblr.)

“ _Kid Flash. B-2-3._ ”

Before the computer had even finished announcing his arrival Bart was half-way across the zeta-tube chamber and on his way to storm through the passage between the living room area and kitchen of their current base and down the hall straight into his room. He was going far more slowly than he would have normally, closer to the rapid furious stalking of non-speedsters, but it was more out of an effort to not throw everything into disarray in his wake than out of any actual restraint. As soon as he was in his room (and damned if he wasn’t frustrated about not being able to slam the door) he snatched his pillow from his bed, covered his face with it, and _screamed_.

There were a lot of things that frustrated him about the past… this time… _whatever_ , but for the most part he was of the opinion that it (justifiably) was better than his original time. However, one thing he had run into on a routine basis that never failed to make him want to tear his hair out was the complete and utter _bullshit_ he got over being trans. In his original time it hadn’t even been that big a deal! _‘Oh, you’re a guy? Okay. No problem. Just try to avoid Reach attention. None of this “you don’t know what you’re getting into” or “it’s just a phase” or “you’re just confused”_ bullcrap! _’_ He threw the pillow across the room with another frustrated scream as he yelled, “That egotistical _bug-fucker!_ ”

Bart hadn’t been this pissed off in a _long_ time; in fact, the last time he’d been this upset was after the Reach had been booted off of Earth and he’d realized that his supply of testosterone was running out. It had been hard enough to get his supply in his original time— _especially_ considering the fact that he required much more than the average person thanks to his heightened metabolism. It had been a miracle that the other members of the resistance had felt that preventing him from developing in a way that felt wrong to him had been enough of a priority that they’d taken the risk to get and continuously create his supply in first place. When he’d realized that his supply had been about to run out (though he’d been trying to stretch how long it would last) and that he had been close to facing the onset of a female puberty, he’d flown into a panic. (And yeah, he knew that technically his body was a male body by virtue of the fact that he was a guy, but it didn’t change the fact that the idea of ever going through a period made him feel like he wanted to claw his way out of his own skin.) That brief period of half-doses had already had its effect and he was fortunate that he was still mostly flat-chested— certainly enough so that almost no one ever noticed that he _wasn’t_ entirely flat-chested— but whether the small size was due to the fact that he’d still had half-doses of testosterone or because he was a speedster he wasn’t entirely sure. Honestly he didn’t really care.

Outing himself to the others had been weird (certainly a hell of a lot more awkward than he’d expected) but for the most part they’d gotten past it and just rolled with it. The League doctors had been more than willing to re-establish his supply and be his primary doctors on that count; it was far easier for them to give him the amount he needed outside of any official medical framework than for him to have to contend with insurance, counseling (which why it was needed made _no_ damned sense to him), and likely not being able to afford as much as he needed. He didn’t even want to _think_ about the run-around he probably would have had to deal with thanks to being meta and all the special medical requirements that entailed.

But now Bart had run into a situation the League doctors couldn’t help him with (they had expressed concerns that they weren’t equipped or knowledgeable enough to do what he wanted correctly), so with Barry and Iris’s help— and the promise of funding from Bruce to help cover it all— Bart had to go through official means. He wanted bottom surgery, and as far as he was concerned the sooner he could get it done, the better. He was 17 (going on 18), he knew _exactly_ who he was and what he wanted, and _damn it all_ he wanted to be completely comfortable with Jaime and Khaji Da! Bart was getting sick and tired of accidental moments of contact that made him flinch on reflex, though Jaime and Khaji Da both were absolutely _fantastic_ about avoiding areas he didn’t like having touched. Honestly there were times where he just wanted to not care, where he just wanted to jump them and screw them senseless (or be screwed senseless by them as the case might be). He wanted to be able to curl up with them, make out with them, and be able to have them practically climbing the walls without having to stop and think about the ways his own body felt _wrong_ to him. He wanted to be able feel like his body was _right_ and that he could press close to Jaime and Khaji Da without constantly being reminded of what he physically lacked or had that he didn’t want. He just fucking wanted to be _him_ without anyone telling him that he was something he _wasn’t_ just because his body didn’t match up with their stupid understanding of what it ‘should be’ for him to be a ‘real man.’ And okay, yeah, he did want the ‘right’ anatomy for the sake of feeling like himself and being able to make love to his partners in a way that felt _right_. He had his priorities! _‘And hot alien-bug-sex without feeling dysphoric as hell is one of them,’_ he thought bitterly.

But that doctor… that stupid _bug-fucking_ , patronizing, piece-of- _shit_ doctor had the _gall_ to think that Bart was ‘confused.’ Bart picked up his alarm clock and threw it across the room, causing it to smash into pieces against the wall.

He’d known that going through official means was going to be more obnoxious and take longer than he’d prefer, but he had thought he’d been prepared for it. He had thought that he was more than ready to jump through any stupid hoops he needed to in order to get what he needed _done_. He hadn’t been prepared for how unbelievably condescending or transphobic some people could be. The idea that someone would _ever_ look him in the eye and say the words, “What you’re asking for is irreversible and you’re still fairly young. It’s not the sort of choice you should make on a whim. And what if you decide you want to have children when you’re older?” had never even crossed his mind. The idea that anyone would _ever_ suggest or dare to _presume_ that he would ever want to be _pregnant_ had been so far off his radar that he’d been struck completely speechless. As if _that_ hadn’t been enough, the piece-of-shit doctor had misinterpreted his silence and _then_ had dared to _pat his knee_ and say, “You’re a beautiful young lady. I’m sure if you take the time to sort through some things you’ll understand that you shouldn’t have to feel like you need to do this to yourself.”

A lamp sailed across the room this time and collided with his mirror, which shattered on impact. Bart couldn’t remember precisely what he’d said to the doctor in his somewhat extensive tirade, but he knew there had been a rather blatant “ _Fuck you!_ ” in there somewhere along with “egotistical Reach-fucking piece of shit” and a few other choice invectives before he’d stormed out. Bart was about ready to throw something else (although what, he had no idea) when he heard a quiet knock on the door.

“Bart?” Jaime called, “ _Hermoso_ , are you okay?”

Bart sagged. On one hand he didn’t want Jaime or Khaji Da seeing the fact that he’d been in the middle of destroying his room, but on the other hand he wanted to see them. One thing he absolutely adored about both of them was that neither of them had ever doubted that he knew himself; they had never seen him as anything but the guy he was, and even when he came out to them they had just accepted it and hadn’t let it impact how they saw him in the slightest. “Door’s not locked,” he finally mumbled as he flopped onto his bed.

Jaime cautiously tapped the controls to open the door and froze for a moment when he saw the wreck on one side of Bart’s room. He was in one of his usual hoodies and jeans, so clearly he’d been on base for a while rather than out running around preventing disasters— though considering the state of Bart’s room, he might as well have been walking into one. He stepped into the room and tapped the controls to close the door before making his way over to sit next to Bart. Side-eyeing the broken mirror, he said, “Was it the appointment?”

Bart gave an aggravated sigh as he raked a hand through his hair and said, “Yeah.”

“That bad?”

“That bad,” the speedster agreed.

They were silent for a moment or two as Jaime scooted closer and slid an arm around Bart’s shoulders. Finally Jaime asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Bart snorted, but let his head fall to Jaime’s shoulder. “Are you sure the two of you want to listen to my ranting?”

There was a subtle shift in physical tension, a clear indicator that Khaji Da had switched control with Jaime, and then Khaji Da said with that beautiful voice of his, full of calm poise, “We are both willing to listen to everything you have to say. If we were not used to listening to your rants by now, I doubt we would be so involved.”

Bart glanced up to meet Khaji Da’s warm golden gaze and couldn’t help the slight smile that was trying to creep onto his face. “You’re being a tease,” he playfully accused.

“Negative. I am being honest,” Khaji Da said with a smirk in a blatant tease.

“You’re both sure you want to listen to my whining?”

One of their golden eyes faded back to Jaime’s brown before the two of them deliberately said in their odd dual-voice, “We would never call that whining _nuestro corazón_. We love you. If it helps to get it out, we want to listen.”

“…I hope you two realize how unbelievably hot it is when you do that.” Bart could never get enough of hearing those two separate voices with their separate accents at once. It was the sort of thing that drove him to distraction with how incredibly sexy he thought it was.

They rolled their eyes in fond exasperation and said, “You’re dodging.”

Bart made a face, but didn’t disagree. “I hate his face.”

They blinked and then Jaime asked in a somewhat confused tone, “Who?”

“The doctor I had to deal with. Doctor ‘Rothram’— more like Doctor ‘Reach-fucking-piece-of-shit’,” Bart said, dropping into a sneer as he said the doctor’s name.

Jaime’s eyebrows shot up. “Do I even want to know what he said?”

It was like the flood-gates opened; Bart’s anger boiled over at recalling the encounter and all of it just came pouring out. “The stupid bastard wouldn’t refer to me by name as soon as he found out I was trans and what I wanted, while I was explaining myself he was giving me this condescending ‘oh you poor thing’ look the _entire fucking time_ , and then when I stopped talking he did this whole damned roundabout reasoning _bullshit_ to try to ‘talk me down’ from doing something ‘irreversible’ because that crusty over-glorified garbage-pile of a doctor thought that I’m motivated by ‘self-hate’ and that all I ‘needed’ was some therapy so that I would ‘stop hating myself’ and ‘accept’ that there’s ‘nothing wrong with being a girl’ and that if I just thought things through that I’d ‘realize’ that I’m a ‘beautiful young lady’ and I’d eventually ‘find a man who would make me happy’ and I just— _I want to fucking wreck his FACE!_ ” If Jaime and Khaji Da hadn’t been there Bart would have gone right back to throwing things. As it was, he had bounced to his feet and angrily paced back and forth while he was ranting. “I mean, I’ve dealt with a lot of shit— a _lot_ of shit— but that asshole… If I was ever going to turn into a fucking supervillain it’d be _his fault!_ Him and his condescending transphobic _bullshit_ would be at fault for making me snap and turn into some sort of maniac hell-bent on killing off every last transphobic pile of Reach-sucking _garbage!_ And I’d be laughing about it! _LAUGHING!_ ”

Jaime and Khaji Da watched him pace back and forth, just listening until he finally came to a stop with an aggravated huff. After a few moments of silence (broken only by Bart’s agitated breathing), Khaji Da shifted more solidly into control and arched an eyebrow. “Bart Allen,” he said in an even tone.

Bart’s eyes darted to them. “Yeah?”

A faint smirk tugged at Khaji Da’s lips before he calmly said, “Recommendation: allow me to resolve the situation.”

Ohhhh Bart had a good feeling about this, but he had to be sure. With a smile threatening to creep onto his face he asked, “What do you have in mind?”

Khaji Da’s smirk turned downright _wicked_. “Recommended tactic: annihilation. Drawn out. With fire.”

Jaime snapped into control with a mildly horrified look and protested, “We are _not_ going to kill that doctor!”

Just as quickly Khaji Da slipped forward again and amended, “Maiming then. He does not need his legs to live.”

Bart couldn’t help it, he immediately started laughing. He was almost crying with laughter as he dropped to sit on the bed next to them again and said, “Oh my _god_ I love you both.”

“We are _not_ assaulting that doctor, no matter how satisfying it would be,” Jaime insisted with fond exasperation.

“Not even a little?” Bart snickered.

“ _Mis corazones_ , I love you both, but I’d rather _not_ end up in jail needlessly. Okay?”

“…Burning in effigy then,” Khaji Da suggested a moment later, provoking another fit of laughter from Bart.

“Oh my _god!_ Khaji Da! You’re just-” Bart couldn’t keep a straight face.

Jaime sighed, a long-suffering sound that did nothing to hide his affection for both of them. “Okay, fine. We can do that— but _only_ if it’s out in the desert or somewhere where we won’t have to worry about things catching fire!”

Bart leaned up to press a quick kiss to Jaime’s lips before he grinned. “I love you, and thank you for putting up with us. Though… Can we use voodoo? Do you think Zatanna would help?”

“That is promising…,” Khaji Da said thoughtfully.

A moment later Jaime facepalmed. “We are _not_ doing that. If I had a _week_ I couldn’t explain all the reasons that would be a bad idea.”

Bart gave a mock-pout and asked, “No super-villain-ing? Not even a little?”

Jaime sighed and let his hand drop. “As much as the two of you would have fun with it, we really shouldn’t.” He paused for a second, his eyes dropping away from Bart’s as Khaji Da silently conferred with him, and then rolled his eyes to cover for the fact that he obviously was tempted to laugh. “Okay, _maybe_ — and this is a big maybe— _maybe_ if we have to save him at some point if something comes up we can make sure something happens to his car, like a busted light or something. But that’s it. _No más_. Okay?”

Bart gave an over-dramatic put upon sigh. “O-kayyyy…” Despite his joking complaint, he scooted closer to Jaime and Khaji Da and slid an arm around their waist while resting his cheek against their shoulder.

Jaime hugged Bart and kissed his temple, earning a pleasant hum in response. They comfortably sat in silence, just letting the seconds and minutes slip by.

For Bart it was nice to just sit and _be_ for a while, to not have to think about the issues he had with his body, that lousy doctor, or the fact that his room was a wreck with glass from the lamp and mirror and the plastic and metal parts from his alarm clock strewn across the floor. It was nice to just be with Jaime and Khaji Da for a while, and to know that they loved him _as him_ and even if nothing changed they always would. Yeah it wasn’t perfect, but it helped.

And then, out of nowhere, Khaji Da nudged his way into control and gave a thoughtful hum. Bart looked up in response, and at his questioning look the scarab said, “Bart Allen… there may be a way around having to deal with inept individuals for what you require.”

Bart blinked and sat a bit more upright. “What do you mean?”

Khaji Da hesitated for a moment before saying, “Human technology is… inferior to my capabilities; human medical technology can not match the quality of which I am capable.”

Bart’s eyes went wide. “Waitasecond, are you saying…?”

Khaji Da gently took hold of one of Bart’s hands, his thumb moving in soothing circles against Bart’s hand. He didn’t immediately answer, taking the time to consider how to convey what he wanted to say, but when he did it was in a tone that made it clear that he knew exactly how much weight his words would carry for Bart. “I monitor the body of Jaime Reyes and perform maintenance on a routine basis. Hormone regulation and production are well within my capabilities. Samples would be required, but it is feasible to produce a supply matched to your body’s own substance.”

Bart felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the room, but it was a feeling that left him giddy. “A-are you saying you can create my supply of testosterone? Based off of what I have _in my body_?”

“Affirmative.”

“That’s… Oh my god… I… Khaji Da, this is-”

“There is more,” Khaji Da admitted.

“What-?”

“It is possible, if I connected into your bodily systems and examined them in depth, that I may be able to make the alterations to your physiology that you wish. _And_ base those alterations on how your DNA would naturally have them, so there would be no chance of rejection.”

Bart could hear the blood rushing in his ears. This was- there was no way that- there was just- He forced himself to breathe. He _knew_ there was no ‘magic fix’ and it was a fact that he had resigned himself to. This though… this was the closest to a ‘magic fix’ that there could possibly be, _and it was being offered by Khaji Da_. “Y-you mean I’d…?” he breathed, unable to complete the thought.

“Affirmative.”

A moment later Jaime once again surged into control, his eyes wide in alarm as he snapped his head to the side to look over his shoulder in Khaji Da’s direction. “We’re _not_ performing _surgery_ on Bart! I’m no surgeon!”

For a moment it looked to Bart like they were having an internal argument, but finally Jaime faded back enough for Khaji Da to be in partial control— a deliberate choice so that Bart could hear both sides of their commentary. “My capabilities are far beyond current human medical technology. It is feasible.”

A hint of Jaime’s concerned frown flickered across their face. “I don’t want to hurt Bart.”

For a moment their eyes darted to Bart, warm gold swirling through both before settling back to one golden and the other brown and dropping away again. “I will not allow any harm to come to the Bart Allen. Fact: I am better able to ensure that no harm will come to Bart than any human doctor. And I will not attempt any alterations if I am uncertain of the outcome.”

Jaime rolled their lower lip between their teeth nervously before looking at Bart again. “What do you think _mi corazón_? It’s your body, your choice.”

One beat. Two… Three… Bart surged forward, tackling them to the bed with what had to be the most intense kiss he had given them in the entire time they had been together. Honestly it almost rivaled the level of intensity that Khaji Da poured into his kisses. When he cut it off he was breathing heavily and so were they (he had no idea if he’d pulled that reaction from Jaime, Khaji Da, or both, but he was happy with it regardless). “You both are _the best_ boyfriends _ever_.”

Khaji Da gave a small huff, as close to a laugh as he was likely to get, before he said in a slight tease, “Technically I am not male.”

Bart rolled his eyes. “You’re still wonderful. Stop trying to get out of that fact.”

“Mmm… Because I am unwilling to allow idiots who can not recognize a man when they see one to tamper with your physiology?” Khaji Da said with a deliberate smirk.

“Keep that up and I’m locking the door,” Bart said bluntly.

A slight frown from Jaime made its way through and he said, “Not with the broken glass and metal on the floor. I’ve heard enough nightmare stories from _mi madre_ about people getting carried away in the moment and getting hurt because they weren’t paying attention to what was around them. And Bart, _hermoso, cariño, mi amor, mi corazón_ — I love you, I do, but I do not want to be pulling glass from your butt.”

Bart gave a mock-pout and said, “Party pooper,” before stealing a quick kiss and then letting them up.

Jaime didn’t waste any time getting to his feet and grabbing Bart’s trashcan to start picking up the mess, knowing that Bart wasn’t far behind. “It’s good for you,” he teased as the armor crept down his arms to cover his hands before he got to work.

“It’s good for me to be _deprived_?” Bart said over-dramatically as he dumped the largest portion of his lamp in the trashcan.

“It’s good for you to not have to worry about getting a piece of glass jammed into your foot, speed-healing around it, and then having to deal with having your foot cut open to get it out, you goober,” Jaime retorted.

“I dunno,” Bart said, “Sounds like an excuse to ‘gentleman’ me to death.”

Jaime sighed. “You two are never going to let me live that down.”

“Nope!” Bart cheerfully agreed as he scooped up chunks of his destroyed alarm clock.

Jaime gave a huff, but there was no real heat or annoyance to it (despite the fact that he could feel the waves of amusement spilling over from Khaji Da in his mind). Rather than let his own amusement at Bart and Khaji Da’s antics slip through, he decided to shift the conversation back to a more serious point. “Khaji Da, mind explaining some of the technicalities for what you’re suggesting? That way all three of us know what we’re getting into?”

Bart perked up. “I’mgonnasecondthat. I mean, yeah, I’m totally into having you tweak things rather than stupid doctors, ’cause I know you’re gonna do it _right_ , but like… are you gonna have to detach yourself from Jaime or something like that and then attach yourself to me? Because that’d be _really weird_ and probably insanely involved— _and oh GOD I don’t wanna think about open holes in Jaime’s back!_ ”

Jaime made a somewhat disgusted face at that thought, which was swiftly followed by an amused snort from Khaji Da. “Negative,” the scarab replied in a thoroughly entertained tone. “Detaching myself from the Jaime Reyes is unnecessary-”

“-Thank _god_ -,” Jaime interjected.

“-and it would take far too much time to do so,” Khaji Da continued. “It is far more feasible for me to collect samples and then begin formulating a plan for approach to alterations from there.”

“Huh,” Bart said thoughtfully. It made sense, but it definitely called to mind his earlier thought that there was no ‘magic fix.’ “Sooo… the whole ‘connecting into my body’ thing…?”

“It will be a necessity; both to monitor your physical status and to regulate pain. The most practical approach in my current understanding is a gradual one, likely over several weeks or perhaps a month or two depending on circumstances, in order to minimize the chances of physical damage or excess pain. Of course your healing factor is something I will have to examine and adapt to in order to be effective, so it may be that there will be instances in such alterations where I am connected into your nervous system much as I am with Jaime— although not to the same extent,” Khaji Da explained.

Bart blinked. “…So in other words, you’re saying this is probably going to hurt sometimes and you’re probably going to be wired into my brain.”

“Affirmative.”

“…You know, I’ve heard about the concept of a mind-fuck before, but this-”

“ _Bart_ ,” Jaime blurted out, “That’s just vulgar.”

Bart shrugged and replied, “Hey, I think about these things. And honestly? Three-way mind-sex sounds pretty freaking hot and like a great distraction for the pain I’ll be in. I mean, if Khaji Da is going to be tapped into my brain, why _not_ take advantage of it?” (He hadn’t actually thought about having mental sex until Jaime interrupted him, but sometimes it was too much fun to poke at him when he had the chance.)

An amused chitter erupted from Jaime’s spine as Jaime shook his head. “Both of you are going to land me in jail one day, I swear.”

“It’s not like we’d be having mind-sex in _public!_ ” Bart protested before thoughtfully adding, “Though is public sex really illegal if it’s all mental?”

“Khaji Da is _not_ performing surgery on you _in public_. And there’s not going to be any ‘mind sex’ involved. _Especially_ not in public!” Jaime insisted, desperately trying not to laugh.

“…It could be a useful distraction,” Khaji Da said in a tone that was entirely too innocent.

Jaime facepalmed, and despite his best efforts a few snickers escaped. “ _Estoy muerto. Mis corazones_ are going to kill me.”

Bart grinned. “It’ll be fine. And besides, at least I’m not so off-the-wall that I’d send nudes to Doctor-Jackass after it’s all done just to gloat.”

“ _Oh my GOD_.” Jaime dissolved into a fit of laughter, swiftly fading back so that no one would be able to hear his uproarious cackling.

For a moment an amused silence stretched between Khaji Da and Bart as they picked up the remainder of the mess. They exchanged a look, and then Khaji Da said with a smirk, “We should tag his car.”

“With what? Spray-painted rainbow-glitter dicks?” Bart asked.

“Affirmative,” was the smug response.

And with that Bart flopped over onto the floor and curled into a ball, laughing himself senseless. No question about it, this had officially gone from being one of the worst days Bart had ever had, to one of the best.


End file.
